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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29833056">The Single Word</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamtofiction/pseuds/daydreamtofiction'>daydreamtofiction</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Glass [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes Style, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, F/M, Mystery, One Shot, Romance, Victorian, Victorian Sherlock Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:21:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29833056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamtofiction/pseuds/daydreamtofiction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A full-length short story sequel to 'The Woman in the Window', set in a Victorian AU. </p><p>When another mystery arrives on Holmes and Watson's doorstep, Holmes is forced to seek the help of the one woman he hoped he never had to see again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Glass [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Single Word</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a sequel to 'The Woman in the Window' which can be found on my page!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">The Single Word</span>
</p><p>Alice Shaw arose from sleep to find her husband, Walter, was missing. She dallied along the landing, taking in the bluish hue of the cold morning through the windows that lined the far wall, and as she descended the stairs, she could not yet distinguish the whereabouts of her husband, and furthermore, had noticed her children too were seemingly gone.</p><p>She passed the housekeeper in the hall who gave a polite smile and a good morning, and further along towards the kitchen, another maid was beginning her daily duties.</p><p>"Where is the rest of my family?" asked Alice.</p><p>"I am not sure, ma'am," the young girl replied. "I have heard no noise from them this morning."</p><p>Just as she began to worry, the front door opened. Through which, Walter and the children returned to the house, cheeks blushing and carrying a beautiful health from the brisk morning air.</p><p>"Ah, good morning, dear," said Walter as he and the children began to remove their coats.</p><p>"Darling, the sun has barely risen. Where have you been?"</p><p>"Father took us on a walk to the creak," said their son Peter.</p><p>"Thought the fresh air would do them good," Walter added.</p><p>"I wish you would have woken me, or at least left a note. You know how I worry."</p><p>"I have told you not worry."</p><p>"But the letters-"</p><p>"Have seemingly stopped. It has been weeks since the last one."</p><p>As if his words had jinxed them, there the housekeeper appeared at Walter's side, and in her hand was the day's post. He took the small pile of letters and began to sift through them as his wife watched on with great concern.</p><p>And just as she had feared, there amongst the pile sat a yellowed envelope, inside of which she knew lay another sinister note.</p><p>~*~</p><p>The Smith family comprised of a long line of educators, Francis Smith, in particular, rising to such stature as to become chancellor, while his son Theodore taught at the college. They lived in a large manor home that sat proudly on a grassy estate near the institution, with stone walls and gravel pathways leading to well-kept flower gardens and thick-trunked oak trees.</p><p>Margaux Cave stood on a stool in the centre of one of the many rooms within the manor, a dressmaker wrapping her corseted frame in white silk and french lace. The Smith's servants struggled to hold each panel of fabric in place, their thimble-less fingers sore with the pricking of pins and tacks.</p><p>Mrs Smith observed the appointment quietly from the edge of the room, her stern face as cold and grey as her neatly preened hair, gloved hands clasped properly in front of her. She gave a subtle sneer as the servants giggled at another one of Miss Cave's jesting remarks. The young woman was all too affable with the help, Mrs Smith had noticed, too willing to slacken the boundaries of class, both above and below her own.</p><p>A young maid lifted a sheet of lace as the dressmaker instructed her to drape it over Margaux's shoulder, though her hands were already full with ribbons from the unfastened bodice.</p><p>"Would you like me to hold that?" Margaux asked.</p><p>The maid stuttered for a moment, as though it were a trick question.</p><p>"Here," she took the lace, stooping towards her with a smile. "If only we were all blessed with an extra set of hands."</p><p>"Yes, Miss," the maid chuckled.</p><p>Mrs Smith stepped forward with a glare, as though she could not bear to witness any more niceties.</p><p>"If I may have a word alone with Miss Cave," she said.</p><p>The servants hurried swiftly out of the room while Mrs Smith walked across the carpet and took a seat at the cushioned bench beneath the window. Her lips were tight and wrinkled as though she were holding a segment of bitter lemon in her mouth, and she patted the empty space beside her, directing Margaux to sit.</p><p>She shuffled with great difficulty beneath the heap of lace and silk and sat down as gracefully as she could manage. All the while, Mrs Smith was eyeing her with the same disdain of which she provided her staff. Margaux thought it well to smile, though the pursing of her lips was more for the benefit of her future mother-in-law than herself, as she was not sure much kindness would leave them if they were not closed tight.</p><p>"Young lady," said Mrs Smith, still reluctant as ever to address her with a more endearing term. "Will you allow me to speak candidly with you?"</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>"When our son approached us with the news of your engagement, I must admit I was rather surprised. See, it has always been a custom of our family to maintain a certain <em>standard</em>. After all, one does not find themselves in a home as beautiful as this by... deviating from expectations."</p><p>A smile pulled at the corners of Margaux's mouth. "You believe Theodore is marrying beneath himself."</p><p>"Well I-"</p><p>"Oh that was not a question," she interrupted. "I am aware of your opinion of me, Mrs Smith. I am an orphan, a teacher, renting room and board alone in a small flat, no dowry, no respectable family name."</p><p>"'Tis beyond an issue of class, young girl. While your social standing is not ideal for our family, I am sure it could be overlooked if you were to show promise as a good wife - to know your place."</p><p>"Is my place not what I make of it?"</p><p>"Your place is to talk less," said Mrs Smith coarsely. "To to be polite, to carry yourself with poise and dignity, to take part in your husband's interests and business instead of preoccupying yourself with your own. You have done well to secure yourself a man like my Theodore; he would not see you slaving in the kitchen or the washroom when there are servants for that. But what he deserves in exchange is a wife who will not bring shame upon his family name."</p><p>Though the notion of biting ones tongue was of course a figure of speech, Margaux found it difficult to do much else besides clamp her teeth against the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge of a harsh quip 'til her mouth tasted of pennies.</p><p>She waited until Mrs Smith left the room before marching through the manor to Theodore's living quarters, all the while tripping and stumbling on her half-made dress. She rapped her fist against the door, and no sooner had her fiancé opened it, she had welcomed herself inside.</p><p>"May we speak?" she said.</p><p>He gave a nod and gestured for her to sit.</p><p>"I have just had a very interesting conversation with your mother," she said. "It seems as though my conduct so far has not given her much hope for the future of our marriage."</p><p>"Goodness." He shook his head. "What did she say to you?"</p><p>"She told me I would do well to hold my tongue more often - speak when spoken to, walk this life behind you instead of at your side."</p><p>"Ah, well I would pay it no mind for now. I am sure that will come with time."</p><p>"You are?"</p><p>"Well of course. Once we have children I am sure you will have less desire for contrarian debate."</p><p>"You think me a contrarian?"</p><p>"Of course." He gave a chuckle, though she did not partake in his laughter.</p><p>"And you believe once I become a mother that my spirit will yield?"</p><p>"Well I do not expect you will have time for much else."</p><p>Theodore noticed the unwavering stillness of his bride's face.</p><p>He softened his tone. "You seem upset by my words."</p><p>"Well I had yet to draw a conclusion on having children. Though now I know that not only is it something you expect of me, but also a way to silence my-"</p><p>"I am sorry," he said quickly. "In my excitement for our wedding I do believe I am getting ahead of myself."</p><p>He took her hand in his own and caressed it with his thumb, gazing at her with great desperation that brought her to surrender. She lowered her head for a brief moment and adorned a gentle smile, easing his fear while simultaneously suppressing her own.</p><p>He brought his hand to her cheek and swiftly attempted a kiss, but she was quick to withdraw.</p><p>"Theo," she said.</p><p>"My dear, no one would know if we were to steal an evening together."</p><p>"That would be improper of us, would it not? After all, we are not yet married."</p><p>"No one need know."</p><p>He tried once again to bring his lips to hers, advancing closer and putting his arm around her waist with an eager forcefulness she had not yet witnessed from him.</p><p>She set her palms atop his chest and pushed him away, rising to her feet and clinging to the material of her unfinished gown.</p><p>"How funny," she said, cheeks blooming with pique. "That your mother speaks so ill of my manners. Yet if she were to see you now."</p><p>She left the room without another word and hurried back to her room.</p><p>At the time of their sudden and unexpected engagement in the summer, she had been all too enthusiastic at the prospect of their union, eager to leave behind her heartache on the doorstep of Baker Street and start anew. Yet with every day that had passed since, her optimism was diminishing, like a waning moon - shadows swallowing light.</p><p>~*~</p><p>The leaves were perishing, and in their death blanketed the streets of London with clusters of rust and gold. It was All Hallows' Eve, apples and horseshoes hung in doorways as women dressed as witches and bats, men as hobgoblins and ghouls, walked the dampened cobbles abustle with excitement for the coming evening and its festivities.</p><p>Doctor Watson stood in the window of 221B Baker Street looking down upon the darkening street. Behind him, the great detective Sherlock Holmes sat in his armchair, one leg across the other, the stem of his clay tobacco pipe wedged between pouted lips.</p><p>"I wonder what this evening will bring in the way of cases," said Watson. "No doubt you will be inundated tomorrow morning with tales of spectres and the like."</p><p>Holmes gave a murmur from the side of his mouth, a thick cloud of smoke escaping into the air above him.</p><p>"Have you given much thought to the stolen artefacts?" Watson asked.</p><p>"Mm yes, solved the case this morning," Holmes replied. "Twas the vicar."</p><p>He turned with a quickness, brows coming together like crumpled parchment. "The vicar?"</p><p>"Indeed."</p><p>"Well come on then."</p><p>"Come on, what?"</p><p>"My friend, you have never required much convincing to divulge your clever deductions. I am assuming this time is no different."</p><p>"Well in all honesty, dear Watson, there is little worth divulging. It was an easy case, so easy I was able to solve it between bites of lunch. And to be quite frank, I simply cannot be bothered."</p><p>"You cannot be <em>bothered</em>?" He approached the sitting area and lowered himself into the chair opposite. "Well, I do say, in all my struggles as the companion of the great detective Sherlock Holmes, I must admit I never expected laziness to present itself as an issue."</p><p>"Tis not laziness, Watson, tis sheer indifference."</p><p>Though Holmes was, by all accounts, the more observant of the pair, Watson had found it difficult to resist building a theory of his own as to his friend's ever-growing miserable disposition. It had started with an invitation discarded carelessly into the fireplace, and with every week that passed, he grew more distracted and altogether less enthusiastic about even the most alluring of mysteries.</p><p>Most nights, Watson would wake to a sorrowful melody. He would rise from his bed to find Holmes at the window in the parlour, standing beneath the flood of moonlight, Stradivari beneath his chin. And in the daytime, he would be instructed to descend the staircase alone, the detective only following once he could be certain that the hallway was empty. It was clear that Holmes had been entirely affected by the news of their downstairs neighbour's engagement, though upon every attempt Watson made to discuss the matter with him, he would be silenced with the wave of a hand or a swift change of conversation.</p><p>The heavy thud of footsteps approached from the landing, stealing him from his wandering thoughts.</p><p>"Inspector Lestrade," said Holmes, identifying their guest by the mere sound of his tread.</p><p>The gruff, greying man appeared in the doorway, removing his hat and nodding his head politely. "Gentlemen."</p><p>"What brings you here at such an hour?"</p><p>"Well I was rather hoping you would have time to lend your insight."</p><p>"What is the case in question?" asked Watson.</p><p>"Truthfully, Doctor Watson, I'm not altogether sure there <em>is</em> a case."</p><p>Holmes turned his head sharply, his face catching the lamplight in such a way that made his pale eyes glimmer with intrigue.</p><p>"Have a seat," said he.</p><p>Lestrade looked around the room for a brief moment. "Where?"</p><p>"A chair, preferably."</p><p>The inspector grumbled and pulled up a small wooden stool. "We had a visit some days ago from a woman, Alice Shaw, she is the wife of Walter Shaw, the-"</p><p>"The gold trader," said Holmes.</p><p>"Yes. Are you familiar with him?"</p><p>"I am familiar with everything."</p><p>"Well, it seems someone has taken a disliking to him for reasons we are not certain. He has been receiving menacing letters with threats of kidnap."</p><p>"After his fortune, surely."</p><p>"That's the part that has us stumped, Mr Holmes. There is no mention of ransom. They are simply letters of threat - a warning. What criminal do you know gives notice before committing their crime?"</p><p>"How long has this been going on?"</p><p>"Since the leaves started t' change, sir."</p><p>He hummed to himself with intrigue as he puffed on his pipe. "Do you have the letters with you?"</p><p>Lestrade plucked a wad of envelopes from the inside of his coat, the pile tied together with a length of butcher's twine. With the flick of a finger, Holmes instructed him to hand them to Watson, and he did so.</p><p>"Does this mean you will have a look at the case?"</p><p>"Indeed," Holmes replied. "I will be in touch."</p><p>"Thank you." Lestrade saw himself out, leaving the two men alone once more.</p><p>"A series of mysterious letters," Watson pondered. "Would be awfully convenient if we were to possess the acquaintance of someone well-versed in the intricacies of handwriting and linguistics."</p><p>"I am aware of what you are implying, however the answer is no."</p><p>"Holmes-"</p><p>"I too can make deductions from handwriting, there is no need to include anyone else in this matter."</p><p>Watson's mouth twitched beneath his moustache. "My friend, forgive my directness, but I do believe it is about time we discussed your feelings towards Miss Cave."</p><p>"If the feelings you are referring to are that of apathy and disinterest, then by all means."</p><p>"Now we both know that is not true."</p><p>Holmes rose from his chair with a suddenness. There was a slight flush in his smooth, alabaster skin, the likes that had only ever adorned him after the particularly thrilling climax of a case. Ever the observer, he was aware of his pinkening cheeks, turning his head in such a way to hide them from the light.</p><p>"She has made her decision," he said.</p><p>"Because you gave her no alternative."</p><p>"The alternative could have been to remain alone."</p><p>"Do you not see how that outcome only favours one? That one not being her."</p><p>"You think me selfish?"</p><p>"I think you stubborn." He stood up and reached for his overcoat, slipping it on as he spoke. "Take the evening to consider my suggestion."</p><p>"Where are you going?"</p><p>"Mary has invited me to a Hallows Eve party."</p><p>"And you are not dressing up for the occasion?"</p><p>"Why yes." He lifted the deerstalker that hung on a hook near the door, fixing it atop his head with a smirk. "I am going as you."</p><p>~*~</p><p>The next week was favoured by dry yet brisk weather, the air thick with the scent of bonfires that had been left to flatten and burn out across London. Holmes and Watson approached the Shaw's residence, regarding the beautifully-kept gardens and generously sized home.</p><p>The housekeeper answered the door and welcomed them inside, instructing them to wait in the hall. Watson obliged, removing his hat and standing near the door. But Holmes was not so polite. As the housekeeper returned into the depths of the home, he began wandering, eyeing the artwork on the walls, the scattering of children's toys, even going so far as to slide open a set of drawers and sift through them nosily.</p><p>"Holmes," Watson whispered. "Could you not be so intrusive?"</p><p>"It is my job. I like to discover what I can about my clients without the influence of their ego-"</p><p>"Gentlemen," said a well-dressed woman as she arrived to greet them.</p><p>Holmes snapped the drawer shut and turned around swiftly. "Mrs Shaw."</p><p>"Alice, please."</p><p>"Alice," said Watson as he shook her hand.</p><p>"I am so thankful that you could come."</p><p>"Will your husband not be joining us?"</p><p>"Oh, no, truthfully he is not aware that I have taken this matter to the police, let alone an infamous detective like yourself." She eyed Watson curiously. "I do confess, you are not at all how I imagined."</p><p>"That is because I am not Sherlock Holmes," he replied. "He is."</p><p>She turned around and gave a small laugh as she observed the taller, darker, more angular man. "Ah, well that does make more sense."</p><p>Watson furrowed his brow, but thought it best not to enquire what it was about himself that did not bespeak of the enigmatic sleuth.</p><p>They followed her into the parlour, which only made the family's privilege of wealth more evident. The room was furnished in expensive fabrics and well-crafted furniture, accents of gold adorned the picture frames and fixtures, and they walked upon a luxurious Persian carpet, immaculately cleaned and cared for by an extensive staff.</p><p>Alice herself was youthful in appearance. Pretty, blonde, with eyes like deep chocolate and a kind smile. Her children rushed through the room from the kitchen, both as fair as their mother and too engrossed in their game to pay attention to their guests. They continued out of the room, giggling and running together.</p><p>"May I ask why you have not informed your husband that you have gone to the police?" asked Watson.</p><p>"Because I have gone against his wishes," she said. "He did not want to involve anyone else in the matter. It seems as though he is not as concerned as I am."</p><p>"Reading the letters myself, I struggle to see how he could not be concerned."</p><p>"So you think I am correct that he is danger?"</p><p>"I have read the letters," said Holmes. "They call you and your children by name and elude to your husband's successful career in gold. They also did not arrive through mail but were instead placed amongst the rest of your post, meaning the culprit has come in close contact with your home."</p><p>Mrs Shaw stared at him with wide, fearful eyes.</p><p>"So in short, yes, I believe he may be in danger," he said. "Do you have any idea who may wish to do this to him?"</p><p>"No, I am sorry I do not."</p><p>"And the writing, is it familiar to you?"</p><p>"Not at all."</p><p>"What about Mr Shaw, has he expressed any theories of who may be sending these threats?"</p><p>"My husband travels often, he is away more than he is home and he does not talk much of his work. There are many people in his life that I do not know."</p><p>Holmes let out a deep hum. "May I take a look around?"</p><p>"Yes, of course."</p><p>He left Watson in the parlour with Mrs Shaw, a move he would often pull upon their first meeting with a client - the personable doctor providing comfort and conversation while he slipped away to enquire further into the case at hand.</p><p>He ascended the stairs to find the children playing on the landing. There was a boy of what he deduced to be nine, a girl just a year or two younger. They locked eyes with him for a moment in an inquisitive stare, no doubt wondering what the strange man was doing in their home.</p><p>"Could you point me to your parents' bedroom?" he asked.</p><p>The little boy pointed to a door further down. Holmes gave a nod and continued on his way, however, he was stopped by the light, airy chime of the girl's voice.</p><p>"Father sleeps in that one there."</p><p>He turned. "Hm?"</p><p>"Father sleeps in there. He says it has a more comfortable bed."</p><p>"They do not share a room?"</p><p>She shrugged and returned to their game, leaving him to ponder curiously as he eyed the two doors.</p><p>"Must be rather exciting to have a father who deals in something as shiny and splendid as gold," he continued. "Has he ever taken the two of you to work with him to see it?"</p><p>"Oh yes, sir," said the boy. "But not to his work. There is lots of it in the cellar."</p><p>His eyes lit up like the striking of a match. He gave the children a smile before disappearing into the bedroom.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Margaux Cave arrived early at the college and, as she did most mornings, began writing the topics of her upcoming lesson on the large chalkboard that stretched the length of the classroom wall. She had been correct in her assumption that the college would have great difficulty in finding a man to take over her position. As such, she had continued to give lectures, and in doing so, had slowly but surely won the affection of the cohort of young men whom she taught.</p><p>They were vociferous and uproarious in nature, presenting great challenge in their resistance to be educated by a woman who was no less than ten years their senior. However with every session, she saw them soften - it began with a chortle at her jokes, a growing eagerness to engage in debate, until eventually, they were her allies, willing to defend anyone who objected to her feminine presence within the establishment.</p><p>A sudden sadness overcame her as she thought of her upcoming marriage and the fact that she would have to leave them. The Smiths had made it clear that they expected her to give up her role as a teacher in order to partake fulltime in wifely duties. But it was not in her nature to submit to anyone, especially not a husband. She was all too aware of her reputation as an intransigent force, a reputation that had followed her throughout her life, a reputation she was not entirely certain if she were ready to give up.</p><p>There was a shuffling at the door. She turned her head, eyes growing wide at the sight of two men silhouetted by the light beyond the room. The shorter of the two stepped forward first, with a smile hidden beneath a perfectly preened moustache and a cane tucked under his arm. The taller followed reluctantly, dark and svelte, though unlike his companion, there was no warmth in his expression.</p><p>"Gentlemen," she said with an uncharacteristic stammer. "Forgive me, I admit I am rather startled to see you here."</p><p>"Apologies for the unscheduled visit, Miss Cave," said Watson. "We are in the midst of a case and we were hoping you could provide us some assistance."</p><p>"You were hoping," Holmes interjected. "Not we, you."</p><p>Margaux looked up at the willowy detective. "I see the change of season has not altered your temperament."</p><p>"Nor yours." He gestured to her hands which were planted impudently on her hips.</p><p>She gave a surly glare before returning her gaze to Doctor Watson. "We live just a staircase from each other," said she. "Was this not a matter you could bring to my door instead of my place of work?"</p><p>"Ah, well, we have just returned from a meeting with the client in question. Thought it more convenient to visit you now as we were passing through."</p><p>It was clear in Holmes' face that their visit to her had not been his decision. He had not crossed paths with his neighbour since the summer, and their last conversation had ended quite abruptly and without resolution. She was all too aware that he was avoiding her, using every skill at his disposal to hide himself away when she came knocking, to keep his comings and goings well-timed so as not to pass her in the hall, and he had not responded to her wedding invitation, no less the small note she had scrawled at the bottom of the page.</p><p>She was already questioning her decision to marry Theodore, and seeing the man she had once engaged in such intimacies with only made those questions more forthright in her mind.</p><p>"What do you need from me?" she asked. "Quickly now, my students will be coming soon."</p><p>"We were hoping you could look over a collection of letters, analyse them, give us your thoughts."</p><p>"Do you have them with you?"</p><p>"Unfortunately not. This visit is more so an invitation, perhaps you could attend our residence once you finish your day of teaching?"</p><p>A murmur of whispering stole their attention. The three of them turned, setting eyes upon a group of young scholars waiting at the door.</p><p>"Boys, you may come in and take your seats," said Margaux.</p><p>They did as they were told, each one glancing at Holmes excitedly as they passed.</p><p>She looked back to the two men. "I will consider your request."</p><p>Watson nodded, tipping his hat in thanks before leaving, followed swiftly by his uncharacteristically quiet friend.</p><p>"Madame Cave," said a student. "Was that Sherlock Holmes? The detective from the papers?"</p><p>"Twas indeed," she replied with a sigh.</p><p>~*~</p><p>The air was dry, yet the cold had left a glisten on the grass, the earth beneath it like a soft cushion when walked upon. Margaux crossed the green to find Theodore waiting for her near the entrance of his family's home. He extended his arm which she threaded with her own, allowing him to lead her down the path like he did most days.</p><p>When they got inside, the housekeeper took their coats, while Mrs Smith stood in the hall overseeing the assembly of an elaborately decorated china vase, so large it required two servants to carry. She rather reminded Margaux of a small dog, with a shrieking bark and unpredictable manner, leaving whoever came near her unsure if they were to be nuzzled or bitten.</p><p>"Ah," said Mrs Smith upon the couple's arrival. "Do you like the vases? I thought them a beautiful addition to the wedding."</p><p>"There are more of them?" asked Margaux.</p><p>"Yes, one for each table."</p><p>"They are lovely, mother," said Theodore.</p><p>"Do you not think they are rather... big?" Margaux added.</p><p>"Big?" she replied with a curled lip.</p><p>"Well surely the guests will not be able to see each other across the table with something so prodigious in their way?"</p><p>Mrs Smith eyed her coldly. "Well, maybe it is a good thing, then, that you have such a little number of guests."</p><p>She felt the woman's words like the cold sting of a blade, swallowing her offence with a duplicitous smile.</p><p>"Come, both of you," said the older woman, leading them into another room.</p><p>There, Theodore's father sat with a cup of tea in hand, a newspaper in the other. They joined him on the long Chesterfield, and though his eyes never left the column he was reading, he began to speak.</p><p>"Have you come from the college?"</p><p>"Yes," said Theodore. "I gave a rather exciting lecture today on Archimedes' principle. The students were quite engaged."</p><p>"And you," said Mr Smith, face still buried in the newspaper. "Have they still not found an appropriate replacement for you?"</p><p>"No, sir," said Margaux. "But I believe they are finally coming to understand that I myself am <em>appropriate</em>."</p><p>Theodore gave her a look, a look which usually implied that she should be quiet. </p><p>"I too delivered an exciting lecture today," she persisted. "My students were so engaged their eyes barely left the chalkboard."</p><p>"Mm, I am sure it was indeed the chalkboard they were eyeing," said Mr Smith sardonically.</p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>"Tis just my father's humour," said Theodore with a chuckle.</p><p>Mrs Smith sat down with them, a rose in one hand and a lily in the other. "Now, which one do you prefer?"</p><p>Margaux rose to her feet. "Actually, I apologise but I have to leave."</p><p>"You have to leave?"</p><p>"Yes. Forgive me, but I am needed elsewhere."</p><p>"You did not mention anything on our walk here," said Theodore.</p><p>"No, I did not, and again I apologise."</p><p>"Where else are you needed that could be more pressing than arrangements for your own wedding?"</p><p>"I do not suppose you are familiar with the detective Sherlock Holmes?"</p><p>"But of course we are," said Mr Smith. "You would have some difficulty in finding a resident of London who is not."</p><p>"Well in that case you will understand why I must go. He requires my assistance."</p><p>Her future mother-in-law spat out a laugh. "What would a great sleuth like Sherlock Holmes require from a woman like you?"</p><p>She drew in a sharp breath, looking to her fiancé for support. Yet he remained quiet, and she had never thought a person more weak. She let out the breath she had been holding and walked out of the room.</p><p>The servants watched as she hurried through the hall, each one turning a blind eye as she let her elbow knock against one of the large vases, disappearing through the front door as it crashed to the floor.</p><p>~*~</p><p>The scene inside Baker Street was just as any other evening. Watson sat at the table polishing off the last of the meal Mrs Hudson had prepared, while Holmes stood at the fireplace, elbow propped on the mantel as he threw a stack of old letters into the flames one by one. A knock on the door, however, was not part of their usual routine. The two men shared a glance, a raised brow and an inquisitive grumble.</p><p>As had become tradition, Holmes retreated to his bedroom at the back of the flat, leaving Watson to rise from the table and see to the caller.</p><p>"Miss Cave," he said as he opened the door.</p><p>"Pardon me, Doctor Watson. I just arrived home and couldn't help but wonder how you were fairing with your case."</p><p>"Well, tis not <em>my</em> case as much as it is Holmes'."</p><p>"Either way, I was hoping I could lend a hand. I fear I did not give you much of my time this morning." She peered into the flat. "Is he here?"</p><p>"In hiding, as always."</p><p>"May I go to him?"</p><p>"He would have my head in a basket."</p><p>She laughed gently. "I will take the blame. If he asks, we will say I pushed past you."</p><p>"Now, Miss Cave," he chuckled. "I doubt he will believe that a woman of your stature could force her way through me-"</p><p>She interrupted him with a shove, moving him aside and entering the flat without permission nor hesitation. Watson straightened his jacket with a huff, cheeks a fluster, as she disappeared down the narrow corridor that led to Holmes' room.</p><p>Inside, the detective stood at the small window that looked upon the back of the home. It was not a glorious view, though he enjoyed the idea that if he could not see much out of it, then no one could see in.</p><p>The door gave a creak, the floorboards groaning beneath the click of a heel that he recognised immediately.</p><p>"What are you doing in here?" he asked calmly and without turning around.</p><p>"I came to help with your case," she replied.</p><p>"The case is coming along fine. I no longer require your assistance."</p><p>"You may not require it, but I still wish to give it."</p><p>He turned now, smoothly on the balls of his soles, in one single motion. His crystalline eyes bore through the darkening room, connecting with her own in a way that stole the breath from the very depths of her lungs.</p><p>"What is it you are trying to get away from?" he asked.</p><p>"I'm sorry?"</p><p>"It has just gone a half past five - you do not usually return home on Tuesdays until after seven. You have shed a tear, though you have done your best to wipe it away, the evidence is there on your dampened sleeve. You say you are here to provide your expertise, yet you carry no case, no books or papers, not even a fountain pen. Finally, it is November, the air is dry yet bitter cold, and you are not wearing a coat, suggesting you left wherever you came from in quite a hurry."</p><p>She remained silent as he slid his hands behind his back.</p><p>"So I will ask again, Miss Cave, what is it that you are trying to get away from, so badly, that you would rush here with such urgency and barge into my room uninvited?"</p><p>She was quiet, as if her words were made of lead, falling back down her throat whenever she tried to speak.</p><p>"Everything," she eventually said, her voice a mere whisper.</p><p>He assessed her woeful expression with regret, a feeling that did not besmirch him often.</p><p>He bowed his head with a sigh. "The letters are in the parlour. Go through, I will show them to you."</p><p>~*~</p><p>Watson had finished off a decanter of brandy, feeling a warmth in his bones as he sat by the fire. He took out his pocket watch and gave a grumble in the notion that time had escaped him for another evening. The cold night bled darkness through the windows, the flat aglow with a mix of candles and electric lamps.</p><p>"Well, I am off to bed," he said, approaching the table where Holmes and Cave had sat for most of the evening. "I said I would accompany Mary for her constitutional, though I fear if I stay up any longer I will sleep through morning."</p><p>"Congratulations, by the way, Doctor Watson," said Margaux. "I do not believe I have had the chance yet, to share my best wishes for your recent engagement."</p><p>"Thank you, Miss Cave, I will pass on your kind words to my fiancée."</p><p>He gave a nod and a smile before retiring to his room upstairs, leaving the two of them alone. Holmes let out a cough to clear his throat as he sifted through the letters. He plucked one from the table, holding it up between finger and thumb.</p><p>"The joining of the words," he said. "There is something about the penmanship I find quite odd."</p><p>She took it from him, running her finger over the dried ink. "Tis too deliberate, as though it took great concentration to write."</p><p>"Yes, I thought the same. You think it a forgery of some kind?"</p><p>"No. It does not seem like a forgery as much as a disguise, as though the culprit's true handwriting would be too familiar to the recipients."</p><p>"So it is just as I thought."</p><p>"Just as you thought?"</p><p>"Yes. I will need a few more days to piece the rest of my deduction together, but I am quite certain I understand what is going on here."</p><p>"Well do you care to share it with me?"</p><p>"I may indulge you once it is all over. But for now I will be keeping it to myself."</p><p>She laughed gently. "As you wish, Mr Holmes."</p><p>He looked down at her as she sat at his side, and marvelled quietly at the beauty of her face. Holmes was, and not disappointed to be, rather oblivious in the concept of physical attraction. Of course, he had always thought her beautiful, even when they first made their acquaintance with one another he was able to appreciate her fine features. He saw an objective beauty in her, in the same way he was able to admire a painting or a well-composed piece of music. But it was only once they became lovers did he find himself captivated, in a way he had never felt before and had yet to feel since.</p><p>"Oh, I must tell you," she said. "You have made me awfully popular with my students. They think it quite impressive, that I know the great detective personally."</p><p>"Well that does not surprise me, I am somewhat of a paragon."</p><p>She laughed. "And ever so humble."</p><p>His face broke with a smile, a rarity that she had never taken for granted. It was a wondrous sight, she thought, to see the sparkle in his pale blue eyes, the wrinkle in his nose.</p><p>"Would you care for a brandy?" He asked as he got up and walked to the tea cart in the corner of the room. "Watson seems to have emptied my decanter of Armagnac, but I do have a touch of Cognac left."</p><p>"You would like me to have a drink with you?"</p><p>"Well, I am often reminded by the gentleman upstairs that it is impolite to pour oneself a drink without first offering unto others."</p><p>"I see. Well yes then, I will have one."</p><p>They sat together at the table, sipping on their drinks and talking with such ease, it was as if they had never had so much as a crossed word.</p><p>Margaux held up the glass, looking at the dark amber liquid and grinning to herself. "Theodore's mother would be quite disgusted if she could see me right now."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Oh she has made her thoughts of me abundantly clear. I am too common, too outspoken, too ambitious. She <em>hates</em> me, Sherlock, almost to a point where it is rather comedic."</p><p>"She hates you for being ambitious?"</p><p>"Indeed. It seems the entire Smith family hold a very different view to myself, of what a wife should be. I crave knowledge and I adore debate. I am more than aware that I am a pain in the arse, and I love it." She grinned. "However, they want a mouse - a daughter of wealth who wishes to live out her days swanning around a stately home with lots of children and an empty head."</p><p>She chuckled into her glass, letting the liquid fall down her gullet with a satisfying burn.</p><p>"Tis a shame," said Holmes quietly. "That they do not see the beauty of a woman with an opinion."</p><p>Her eyes fell on him, her smile falling into a much more serious expression. "Yes," she said. "It is a shame."</p><p>The air around them burned like the brandy in their glasses. Of course, Holmes knew better than to let their gaze linger on each other for too long, and as he was supposed to feel nothing, he said nothing.</p><p>"I think I should go," said Margaux. "I have been in this corset since this morning and I would quite like the ability to breathe again."</p><p>"Yes," he agreed. "And I suppose a thank you is in order, for your assistance with the letters."</p><p>"You are very welcome."</p><p>She saw herself to the door, but stopped before crossing the threshold.</p><p>"I miss you," she said suddenly, keeping her back to him as she spoke. "My heart aches when I think of you, and now that I've spent this time with you it has surely broken altogether."</p><p>He remained inside the flat, stooping his head with a sigh. "Margaux."</p><p>"I am just speaking the truth, Mr Holmes. It is, after all, one of my many flaws."</p><p>"Tis not a flaw."</p><p>She drew in a long, deep breath and bade him a goodnight before walking down the landing and descending the staircase. There was a heaviness in her chest as she heard the sound of his door closing, his footsteps echoing through the ceiling above her as she made her way to 221C.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Like most nights before, Watson awoke to the sound of the violin. He did not need to check the time to know it was the middle of the night, for the moonlight shining through the window was evidence enough of the ungodly hour. He climbed from his warm sheets and trudged down the narrow staircase leading from his bedroom to the parlour, and sighed as he set eyes upon his wallowing friend.</p><p>"Holmes."</p><p>The music stopped, and he turned, removing the instrument from beneath his chin.</p><p>"I do apologise, I thought you would be in too deep a sleep by now to hear my playing."</p><p>"What is the piece? I do not recognise it."</p><p>"Tis my own composition. I have taken a liking to playing without premeditation, simply allowing my fingers to translate whatever is up here in the moment." He tapped the side of his head with the bow.</p><p>"And what, up there, could produce such a mournful melody?"</p><p>"Many things, Watson. After all, I have spent much of my life in the presence of grief."</p><p>"But never felt it yourself, so deeply, that you must exorcise it with music. That was until just a few months ago."</p><p>Holmes drew in a calm breath. "I have already made it clear that I do not wish to discuss Margaux with you."</p><p>Watson's mouth curled upwards. "I think you will find that I never mentioned Miss Cave. That was you who drew the connection between her and the reason for your sorrow."</p><p>"Ah, well then I must have misheard you."</p><p>"Of course." He smiled, giving a nod and making his way to the door. "You are able to end your anguish, Sherlock, with just a word. For once, set aside your obstinance and allow yourself some tenderness. It could be the making of you, my friend."</p><p>
  <b>~*~</b>
</p><p>Mid-November brought an early snowfall. The weather, often unpredictable, had been particularly punishing that year as it moved towards winter. People walked the grounds of the college blowing air into their palms, the more affluent of the members wearing coats lined with fur and wool.</p><p>As every day before, Margaux left the institution to find Theodore waiting for her across the grass. He was buttoned up warm, nose pink, top hat speckled with snow. She drew in a breath and embarked over the green, the soft dirt sucking at her boots as she walked.</p><p>When she got to him, he extended his arm, though she did not take it and instead kept a small distance between them.</p><p>"I am afraid I cannot come with you," she said.</p><p>"Surely you are not still upset after the events of yesterday?" he replied.</p><p>"If I were, would I not be justified in that?"</p><p>"My dear, this is silly. Come, let us get out of this snow."</p><p>She shook her head and took yet another step back. "I do not want to marry you," she said quickly.</p><p>"You do not-" His voice trailed off, as though his shock had removed all capabilities of language.</p><p>"You are so lovely, Theo. But I fear your expectations of marriage do not coincide with my own. I want to be with someone who champions my intellect and challenges my humour, who respects that I am my own person and loves me beyond my ability to close my mouth and give him children."</p><p>"If that is the impression I have given you then I am sorry. But Margaux, I care deeply for you. I would not have asked you to marry me if I did not."</p><p>"All I can do is apologise. Truly, I entered this engagement with the best intentions. But I cannot ignore this feeling in my chest telling me that this is wrong."</p><p>He took a moment of silence, looking around the crisp, white scene and back to her regretful expression.</p><p>"I can have a word with my mother."</p><p>"It would not alter anything," she replied.</p><p>"How could you change your mind so quickly?"</p><p>"My mind has been made up for a while. It just took some time for me to listen to it."</p><p>"All the plans, the arrangements, money spent."</p><p>"I am sorry. Truthfully, I am."</p><p>She turned around and began to walk away.</p><p>"And just like that, tis done?" he called out to her.</p><p>She glanced over her shoulder at him with a sympathetic smile. "I wish you all the happiness in the world, Theo."</p><p>~*~</p><p>It was another cold afternoon, but the fire inside 221B roared with a warm glow. The snow was still falling, leaving a dirtied slush that gathered in the seams of the cobbles outside.</p><p>Holmes sat alone at the table, pipe in hand as he skimmed the pages of an old collection of Chaucer, when there was a knock, followed quickly by the opening of the door.</p><p>"May I come in?" Margaux's voice chimed behind him.</p><p>"Yes," he replied.</p><p>"Is Doctor Watson home?"</p><p>"No, he has gone with Ms Morstan to choose wine for their wedding, or something equally as dull, I confess I was not paying attention when he told me of his plans. Why? Do you wish to speak with him?"</p><p>"No, actually I was hoping I would find you alone. I wanted to speak with you, to inform you that as of today I am no longer eng-"</p><p>"Aha!" Holmes exclaimed, holding one of the letters between finger and thumb. "Here it is. The final element that supports my theory."</p><p>"What is it?"</p><p>"Come." He ushered her towards him, placing a hand on the back of her head and pulling her close until their eyes were level with one another. "See that," he continued as he held the paper to the light.</p><p>"Tis a watermark," she said.</p><p>"Yes, for a brand of German paper. Expensive, handmade, and only sold by one establishment here in London." He turned, their eyes meeting, faces close. "It happens to be just a street away from a building where Walter Shaw has been renting a personal workspace."</p><p>"A workspace? I thought you said he had an extravagant home. Why rent somewhere when there is plenty of space there?"</p><p>"Because he is not using it for business. Come, we must go there at once."</p><p>"Me? Would you not rather wait until Doctor Watson can accompany you?"</p><p>"No. You will do fine."</p><p>They waited outside Baker Street in the flurry, the sun settling into a chilly evening. Holmes raised his hand as a cab approached, the horse slowing to a trot before stopping altogether. The coachman stepped down, tipping his hat with a polite smile.</p><p>"Romantic evening," he said.</p><p>"Is it?" Holmes replied.</p><p>"Oh you know, the snow, lovely lady on your arm."</p><p>"I still do not see what that has to do with romance."</p><p>The coachman cleared his throat before walking to the cab and opening the door.</p><p>"Must you be so tactless," Margaux hissed.</p><p>Holmes lowered his pipe and glanced down at her with a furrowed brow. "What?"</p><p>She shook her head and saw herself into the cab.</p><p>~*~</p><p>They arrived at the Shaw's home soon after, following the housekeeper inside as Holmes had done the first time he visited. He asked for Mrs Shaw specifically, sparing no time upon her appearance to begin explaining his findings.</p><p>"Mrs Shaw," he said. "I apologise for not arranging a visit in advance, but I am sure once you hear my deductions you will be glad I did not wait."</p><p>"You have solved the case?" she asked hopefully.</p><p>"I believe so."</p><p>Mr Shaw appeared in the hall, laying eyes upon them with weary trepidation. "What is this?" he said. "Alice, who are these people?"</p><p>"My name is Sherlock Holmes."</p><p>"The detective?"</p><p>"Indeed. This here is my associate, Miss Margaux Cave."</p><p>Mr Shaw turned to his wife. "You went to them with the letters?"</p><p>"I did not know what else to do, Walter."</p><p>"And it is a good job she did," Holmes continued. "For she has very well saved herself and your children from tremendous heartbreak. Tell me, Mr Shaw, when was the first time you were unfaithful to your wife?"</p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>"If I had to wager a guess, I would say some time in September." He slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I would assume you began embezzling gold not long after, hoarding it in your cellar here."</p><p>"That is preposterous. I-"</p><p>"You are having an affair?" said Mrs Shaw with a gasp.</p><p>"No. I am not. Of course I am not!"</p><p>"Your husband is the author of the letters, Mrs Shaw," said Holmes bluntly. "I fear you may not wish to know the reason why."</p><p>The agitated man marched to the door. "Get out of my house."</p><p>"A cunning plan it was," Holmes continued, remaining planted to the ground. "Though so callous of you, to allow your family to believe you had come to great harm, all so you could disappear with your fortune and begin a new life with your mistress."</p><p>"And what evidence have you for such an outrageous suggestion?"</p><p>"You began sending letters to yourself as an alibi. So that when you fled, the police would assume the crime had been committed by the anonymous writer. Your absence easily explained by the threats of your own kidnap in a series of letters they would only find once you were long gone. The only thing you did not expect was for your wife to seek help from the police, who in turn, came to me." He gave an insincere smile.</p><p>"This is mere speculation."</p><p>"You are correct, I cannot prove your infidelity. I can, however, prove that you have been laundering gold. Something I am sure the police will be most interested in." He took out his pocket watch. "They are on their way here, by the way. Any minute now I am sure."</p><p>"But it is not my handwriting," said Mr Shaw. "If it were, my wife would have recognise it."</p><p>"That is where Miss Cave comes in." Holmes gestured to the woman at his side. "Fantastically observant in the field of handwriting."</p><p>"Tis true," she said. "One only has to glance at the penmanship to see it is not genuine."</p><p>Mr Shaw leaned forward, speaking with a venomous sneer. "I do not recall asking for your opinion, woman."</p><p>Holmes' back straightened, his ears pricked, eyes pointed at the man with a rising vex, but before he could retaliate, Margaux spoke.</p><p>"And I do not recall ever meeting a man so cowardly."</p><p>He could not resist the slightest smirk, ever amused by her quick wit and unwavering resistance to insult.</p><p>The police arrived soon after, taking Walter Shaw away in a pair of wrought iron cuffs. All the while, the ruined man called out to his distraught wife in a desperate declaration of innocence. A declaration she did not appear to give much credit to. Instead she remained in the hall, clasping at her chest in panic as though she had woken up from a dream only to find her reality were the true nightmare.</p><p>Margaux approached her carefully, placing a hand comfortingly on her arm. "You were intuitive and intelligent enough to know that something was not right, even when he was trying his upmost to trick you. He would have left you and your children to mourn his loss, to grieve, to struggle without him. You are better than that, Alice. Do not settle for this life just because you were taught to view yourself as weak. We women are, more often than not, stronger than these men will ever comprehend."</p><p>Holmes watched on, finding somewhat of an admiration for the way she dealt with the saddened woman. Usually, upon the conclusion of a case, he would leave swiftly and without regard for the state he was leaving his clients in. As far as he were concerned, he had solved it, and the aftermath nor the justice was part of his duty.</p><p>But whether justice was fully done in the case of Walter Shaw could be debated. In expectation of reducing his own sentence, Mr Shaw would go on to divulge the whereabouts of a further two crates of gold bars, and would lead police to the embezzled trove. And although he would be committed to prison for several years, it was clear that once his sentence was served, he would continue the life of a wealthy man. Though it was yet to be determined whether that life would include his family.</p><p>~*~</p><p>They arrived back at Baker Street to find Doctor Watson preparing to retire for the evening. The preparations for his wedding had no doubt begun to take toll, though there was an air of excitement to him, as though he were quite enjoying the entire affair. </p><p>"Ah, I wondered where you had got to," he said as Holmes entered the flat. "Solved the case, I presume?"</p><p>"Indeed we did," said Margaux, emerging from behind the detective's tall frame.</p><p>"Oh miss Cave, forgive me, I did not see you there. You say you solved it... together?"</p><p>"Yes, she proved most useful," said Holmes.</p><p>"Well." Watson regarded the pair with a smile, but did not dare speak on it further. "I will leave you two to debrief, after what I can only assume was an eventful evening."</p><p>Watson saw himself to bed, while Holmes wandered towards the table in search of his tobacco pouch. Margaux stood in the centre of the room, listening to the doctor's footsteps as they climbed the stairs, and the soft closing of his bedroom door.</p><p>"You will make yourself sick, the amount of tobacco you smoke," she said.</p><p>Holmes glanced up at her as he pushed a wad into the end of his pipe. "I have a small tin of cocaine in my breast pocket, if you would rather I partook in that."</p><p>She shook her head with a chuckle. "I would not. But I know you are much like me in the sense that you seldom do as others tell you."</p><p>"Defiance," he said. "An endearing quality."</p><p>She laughed again. "Well you are certainly the first to think so."</p><p>They spent a moment without words, the room as silent as footsteps on fresh snow. Holmes found himself approaching her, slowly closing the space between them until she had to tilt her head to look up at him.</p><p>"What you said to Mrs Shaw tonight was very kind," he said. "I am... most grateful to have had you by my side today."</p><p>"And I am grateful also, to know that you have never regarded me as anything but your equal."</p><p>He drew in a slow breath, his eyes never leaving her as she gazed up at him.</p><p>"Well." Her voice was almost a whisper. "I should go."</p><p>"Y-yes," he agreed, hiding every shred of reluctance behind an assertive tone. "Goodnight, Miss Cave."</p><p>"Goodnight."</p><p>~*~</p><p>She lay awake in bed, covers pulled up to shield her from the cold draught she had not yet had fixed. The room was dark and quiet, leaving little to distract her from the incessant monologue within her own mind.</p><p>She was not happy. A feeling she thought would cease with the ending of her relationship with Theodore Smith. Yet it was still there, a heavy sadness that overcame her whenever she was alone. The reason, she was beginning to realise, had not simply been her engagement, but the state of limerence she had found herself in for the aloof yet enchanting man upstairs.</p><p>A breeze fluttered through the curtains. She pulled the covers to her chin and turned on her side, forcing her eyes shut so as not to prolong her self-torment. But then, there was a familiar sound. One that sent an entirely different chill across her flesh.</p><p>Three quick, sharp taps, a pause, and two heavy, deliberate knocks.</p><p>She rose from the bed and made her way straight through her flat, too eager to slip on a robe and answering the door in her nightdress, hair falling loose down her back.</p><p>There he stood, as he had done so many times before, eyes fixed, jaw clenched, waiting, like a vampire, to be invited over the threshold. Of course, she ushered him in, closing the door quickly and pivoting to look at him.</p><p>"You promised you would never open the door to me again," he said with a voice so low and earnest.</p><p>"You asked me to promise," she said. "But I never agreed."</p><p>"I wish you would have."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Because then I would be retreating back upstairs as opposed to standing here doing this."</p><p>"Doing what?"</p><p>He paused, rubbing his mouth with his long, slender fingers. Troubled, he was, and almost angry. Though not with her, but with himself.</p><p>"Sherlock-"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Why-"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"What do you mean? Yes what?"</p><p>"The message scrawled on your invitation. You said it was all you needed to hear."</p><p>She took a sharp, quiet breath as his intentions finally became clear to her. "Yes?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Sherlock, if this is a joke then it is a cruel one-"</p><p>"It is not a joke. A single word, you said. The answer to the question you asked all those months ago." He approached her slowly, bringing himself so close to her that he could almost hear her heart beating. "Do I share those feelings, you asked. Well there you are... Yes."</p><p>She remained still, stunned to silence by his admission, as he brought his hand to her face and turned it up to look at him. The hot blushes swept in crimson waves across her cheeks as he pressed his lips to hers in a deep, wanton kiss, hands clutching at her in a most ardent embrace.</p><p>"This was... most unexpected," she whispered, their faces still close, breath blending together to warm the cold air between them.</p><p>"Well I would have hoped to be slightly more theatrical about the entire thing, like standing up to object at the church."</p><p>She laughed quietly. "How can I be sure that this is not the brandy speaking?"</p><p>He gave another rare smile. "I have been drunk, sober, high, clean... Yet in every state, I have still found myself longing for you."</p><p>She closed her eyes, savouring his words for a brief moment before speaking again. "If that is the case then why did you erase me from your life, and with such ease?"</p><p>"I did not erase you from my life. I erased myself from yours."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Twas easier that way. I am not sure if you have noticed, but I usually have a rather unfavourable outlook on love."</p><p>"Then what changed your mind?"</p><p>"The fact that I watched you leave tonight and could hardly bear it. More so, I could not stand the idea of losing you to a man who does not appreciate you - who would allow his family to diminish your value without a single objection."</p><p>"And you will not feel differently when the sun rises and it is a new day?"</p><p>"Margaux, there have been four-hundred-and-sixty-seven sunrises since the moment I first laid eyes upon you, and I am yet to feel differently."</p><p>She gave a soft gasp, astounded by the ease with which he spoke of his feelings for her. "Forgive me, I cannot quite believe this is happening."</p><p>"Neither can I. Though, strangely, I have never felt more content."</p><p>She rested her palm on his cheek and smiled. "Stay with me tonight."</p><p>He let go of her and took a step back. "I would like nothing more. But I feel we must keep what little morality we have left. I cannot spend the night here in the knowledge that you are engaged to another man."</p><p>"But you are happy to kiss me?" she countered with a gentle smirk.</p><p>"Well, despite what others say, I <em>am</em> only human."</p><p>She laughed, stepping closer and bringing her delicate fingers to the line of his jaw. "I have already called off my wedding."</p><p>"You have?"</p><p>"Yes. I could not do it, not to myself nor him."</p><p>He did not respond.</p><p>"There were many reasons," she continued. "Though I would be lying if I said you were not one of them."</p><p>"Why did you not tell me?"</p><p>"I tried earlier today, but you were too enthralled in your case."</p><p>"All this time I wasted."</p><p>"Tis not that much time, I only spoke with him this afternoon."</p><p>"No. I mean all the time I have spent denying this. All of it, wasted, for my own pertinacity."</p><p>"I would call you more bull-headed than pertinacious."</p><p>He glared down at her. "Actually," he said. "Upon reflection, I have changed my mind about this. I do believe it was the brandy talking after all."</p><p>She let out a giggle before grabbing him by the sleeve and pulling him back to her. He chuckled softly, taking her quickly in his arms and stooping his head to catch her lips in a fervent, never-ending kiss.</p><p> </p>
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